


The Crazy Room

by Pegasister60



Category: Yandere high school
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Grian gets locked in the Crazy room, Grian gets to snap, Griangst, Hurt No Comfort, Imprisonment, Mental Breakdown, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Solitary Confinement, Weapons, paranoid thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasister60/pseuds/Pegasister60
Summary: They really did it. They just up and left him here in this tiny room with no idea when he’ll be let out. After everything.They were so quick to do it too. He didn’t even get to plead his case, didn’t get to be interrogated.Didn’t have time to turn over his items.Oh dear. What a terrible combination of oversights.Well, that’s everyone else’s problem.—Canon divergence starting from episode 64, “The Crazy Room.”What if Sam got his way and they did leave Grian in the room for a little while longer?
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. Day 0

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this drawing](https://pegasister60.tumblr.com/post/643694039421665280/up-to-episode-64-now-my-first-thought-as-sam-was) I posted on my tumblr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grian gets settled in.

In the end, the one thing he refused to do was blame himself for this.

He’d tried to be the voice of reason. His first mistake, looking back.

This school, this town, these _people_ operate on such distorted logic.

Their currency makes no sense. Their economy makes even less.

Their mores feel like a minefield. Everytime he speaks up or asks a question he’s left feeling anxious until he gets a response. 

Was it a good question? Is it something obvious to the rest of them? Was this a misstep? Is this offensive? Were they only joking? Am I going to get stabbed over this?

And that’s another thing. 

The threat of violence has been present since the first time he stepped off that stupid bus. 

From the very beginning Sam was itching for a fight. Over the littlest things, over _everything._

And when he got it? He tucked his little rabbit tail between his legs and cried wolf as he ran. Pretending like he hadn’t been blatantly cheating, lying, and overstepping.

People didn’t always side with Sam, but he’d do his damndest to convince them. 

Shifting blame, feigning ignorance, weaving lies, distorting details, and _openly gaslighting_.

He’d do anything to make things work his way. Even when he was the one who mucked it all up.

Taurtis’s stabbing was Sam’s fault. Grian knows this. Grian refused to say otherwise unless there was a knife to his throat.

Grian didn’t owe Sam anything. He could’ve turned around and left instead of attending Sam’s pity party and dressing up for it.

Grian should not have fed Sam’s delusions. He knows this. He regrets so many of the things he did as Taurtis. 

When he was dressed as Taurtis that is. He was never Taurtis.

But he refuses to feel guilty. Refuses to take all of the blame the way Sam tried to make him.

Because he knows what happened. He knows how it all went down.

Sam stabbed Taurtis. Taurtis offered to drive. Sam wanted a substitute Taurtis. Yuki forced him to comply with Sam’s demands. Taurtis couldn’t remember. Sam wouldn’t let Taurtis remember. Sam would discourage any efforts to help Taurtis. 

The longer he sits in the not-so-padded cell, the more he twists that thread of events. Wrapping it around and around as he tries to find ways he could’ve done more, could’ve fixed things sooner.

Not that it should’ve been up to him. The adults around him had done their part to try and help him, but it just didn’t feel like their best.

They let Yuki walk around with knives all the time. They didn’t make any efforts to bring Sam in or get him help even after things escalated. Sam was free to roam the streets and did so while very mentally unstable. Which was one of the main reasons why he didn’t immediately board a train to somewhere far away. 

There’s no telling what Sam would’ve done to him if he’d caught him on his way to the train station. 

The other reason is one he’s less proud of.

He was just so lost.

He didn’t know the city’s layout, didn’t know any places to stay. He can’t read the signs.

Where else was he supposed to go? Hide under a bridge somewhere and hope Yuki doesn’t sniff him out? Bang on doors and pray whoever opens has a heart and a closet to hide him in? Risk escape when he has no idea where he’d even go with the bus still broken?

There were so many unknowns. So many risks.

He felt like such a coward and a fool for going back to Sam and Taurtis’s apartment. But he did it anyways. Hoping and praying that Sam would calm down before he arrived and that he’d think it normal for him to be there.

That was exactly what ended up happening. Didn’t do him any favors.

He still suffered for the rest of that week. Living Sam’s lie while trying his hardest to not let the truth be snuffed out. Trying to keep his head when the people around him kept losing theirs.

Well look where that got him. In prison for reasons not even related to the crimes he actually committed.

At least, he thinks it’s not related. They did toss him into the crazy room before the interrogation even ended. 

He still wasn’t even sure what he’d said wrong! They were about to be slapped with false drug charges. Was he just supposed to let that slide? Were _they_ just going to let that slide?

No, no they probably would’ve done even worse. Sam has been trying to pin Taurtis’s stabbing on him almost since it happened, but to say it in front of _the police?_

When they were all already _under arrest?_

He’s seething just thinking about it. 

Sam probably would’ve tried to pin more on him if they’d given him the chance. Despite the fact that it was _his_ girlfriend who got them jobs with the Yakuza.  
  
_Sam_ was the one who stole most of that money single-handedly. He was the one who decided to doublecross the Yakuza as well, which brought on the shoot-out that got them arrested.

And it was Sam who dumped all of his incriminating possessions onto the counter in front of Mrs. Okami. Sam was the one who convinced them to keep him. Sam was the one who told Taurtis that Grian would be fine in here.

Grian is certainly _not_ fine in here.

He’d been shot and hadn’t had the chance to get it checked out by any sort of doctor. It wasn’t bleeding anymore but it hurt so badly. 

No one’s come to read him his rights or even tell him what Sam and Taurtis left to do. Or when they’d be back.

Or when he’d get out.

He was hungry. He saw someone pass by his cell and asked them for food, but he wasn’t sure if they’d heard him. He wasn’t thirsty yet but it was only a matter of time.

Maybe, maybe he still had some snacks in his bag?

Some Pocky? A Mountain Dew? Hell, he’d take some Toritos if he had any left.

His bag was still where he’d dropped it when he got here. He leaned forward and pulled it closer by the strap.

He opened it and was met with quite the sight.

Oh. Oh that’s right.

They never got around to searching him and Taurtis for anything illegal. Not after Sam so neatly proved them all guilty.

He got up and moved to peek through the bars at the top of the door.

No one in sight.

He was quick about sorting all the contents of his bag into a near arrangement in front of him so that he could take in what he had at his disposal.

He had the knife he’d taken from Yuki a few nights ago that he’d then used in a knife fight with PieLord. 

He has the sword that he’d swiped off the wall in that one house.

He had the gun that was shoved into his hands in PufferfishPete’s store. As well as a stack and a half of ammo.

He still had his phone and his charger, though the cell lacked outlets. He clicked it off completely to conserve the battery.

He had his homework, a copy of the hit list that was given to them, and an outdated wedding invitation. He set the homework on top and moved on.

Two stacks of money stolen from Silly’s college fund and a few rolls of toilet paper. 

Six KitKats, two boxes of pocky, three Hello Pandas and some leftover Toritos. 

And four Mountain Dews, not including a half empty one that he immediately drank.

It was all more than he expected to find. 

And it worried him a little bit.

There was nowhere to hide his bag in this room. If they came in and asked for it he wouldn’t be able to hold onto it either. Not without a fight.

Was he willing to put up a fight?

That was the question he kept turning around and around as he put all his stuff back into his bag.

He had no real reason to, if he thought about it. 

Sam and Taurtis were out there doing whatever it is they were doing to get everything squared with the police. If they succeeded, then their charges would probably be dropped and they’d have no reason to keep him in here. 

Nothing in his bag made them look any more guilty than Sam’s already had. Giving it to them now of his own free will might even count as good behavior and get him some brownie points.

But.

But this country, this town, this local government operated on logic he doesn’t understand.

He hadn’t done anything more illegal or violent or reprehensible than the other two! And yet he was the one thrown in here without even being given a clear reason as to why.

Who’s to say that they won’t take him handing over the bag as a further admission of guilt and extend his sentence? How can he trust that they’ll see his act of goodwill for what it is and not just kick him while he’s down?

Short answer: he can’t.

He’s back here again then.

Certainly damned if he doesn’t, maybe even still damned if he does. With no way of knowing where to go or what to say or who to ask.

He’s lost.

He’s lost and he’s alone. He could maybe talk through the door to PufferfishPete, but that might attract attention and they might realize he has his bag and then he’d have to choose.

But if he doesn’t make any sort of sound and if he tries not to get noticed.

They might forget about him.

That’s.

No that’s not something that could happen, right? Surely there’s never been negligence like that. There’s no way they’d just leave someone they think to be insane unattended in this horrid room. That’s just needlessly cruel!

Surely the system is better than that!

It. It has to be.

Because if they’re so quick to slam people in cells and hang up the keys. 

If there really is no due process.

What does that mean for him?

YandereChan was released after a week of imprisonment. But that was only because they lacked evidence. Whether or not she was innocent apparently had nothing to do with it, even if she was arrested and suspected for _murder_.

What-

What about him then?

There was an overwhelming amount of evidence that was enough to sink him. He was never even allowed to sit through the whole interrogation, much less tried for his crimes.

Would they ever listen to reason? Would they just sweep this under the rug because of what Sam and Taurtis are doing?

Sam and Taurtis.

They’re the ones who made the deal with the police. Grian has no idea what the terms and conditions were. 

For all he knows, the only way to get charges cleared is to do something for the police. But he _can’t_ do anything when he’s _stuck in here._

Does he just not get a chance then?

Is this just what happens? Sam and Taurtis get off the hook while he’s left here to rot?

He’s spiraling, he knows. These are all just fear-fueled paranoid thoughts. He needs to calm down.

Then the lights in his room click off.

And he hears the hallway lights start clicking off.

Automatically.

Was it already night time? Did everyone already leave for the day?

And before he can decide against it, he’s standing and rushing to the door. 

He couldn’t see much of the outside before, now there’s barely anything to see. 

“Hello? Hello?”

No answer.

“Pete, are you awake? Pete? Pete, are you still there?”

No answer.

“Pete, please say something! I know you’re here with me, you’re right down the hall! Pete, wake up! Wake up!”

He knows Pete was arrested today. He was brought in for being involved in the shoutout. He should still be here. It’s only been a couple hours, he shouldn’t have been released already. He couldn’t have.

They’d surely have released them together? They had similar charges!

Sam and Taurtis have already made a deal. Shouldn’t that be grounds to let him go?

He needs to sit down. He needs to breathe. He needs to not almost trip over his bag. Tripping over his bag is not something he needs.

It happens anyways. 

There’s a whole room’s worth of floor and he somehow manages to trip over the one object inside the entire room. Unbelievable. Dumb. Frustrating.

Well, he’s on the floor now. Laying on the floor of a hellish, not-padded-enough cell and driving himself insane with worry and doubt.

He wants a distraction. He has distractions. He doesn’t want to waste his phone’s battery. He has so few other options.

He pulls off his tie. It does not help with his breathing.

He wraps toilet paper around his bullet wound. It does not help with the pain.

He eats some more snacks. His stomach feels sick. 

He drinks some Mountain Dew. He just wants to go home.

He wishes he’d just gone _home._

Who cares if the house is too empty and his parents don’t really talk to him and that he for some stupid reason still cares about some of these people?

He’d be safe. He’d be comfortable. He wouldn’t feel awful like this.

He doesn’t want to feel like this.


	2. Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grian gets bored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote these two chapters and had them saved as drafts before I posted. I don't know how often I'll update after this.

There’s a sensation in his neck that is wholly unpleasant. That is what he wakes up to.

He spent the night with his head on his bag staring at the wall and waiting to pass out.

He waited an awful long time.

He sits up and flips his bag over. He needs his knife for this.

It’s something that isn’t necessary. It’s just something to appease some of his more frantic thoughts from last night.

He uses his knife to make a small line on the wall. Like you’d see them do in movies, except it’s a little harder because of how weird the tiles are. They’re not soft and he hates them, so he doesn’t feel so bad marking them up.

Just the one line for now, somewhere he can easily shift in front of if anyone looks in.

When. When someone looks in.

The lights have clicked on already so there must be people here.

He can call out to them and ask them for something to drink. Maybe even call out to Pete and hope he was just a deep sleeper.

He’s already willing to risk making this all worse and it’s only been a day or so. He’s pathetic.

But he gets up and shoves his bag into one of the less visible corners in front of him and lets himself hope a little.

“Hello? Mrs. Okami?”

No answer.

That’s fair. He’s not sure if it’s a school day or not, but if it is then Rowan and Mrs. Okami won’t be here.

He’ll just try again.

“Paul? Paul, can I have some water?”

No answer. 

Of course there isn’t. If he’s not close to the cells then he won’t hear him. 

He’ll just speak loudly and more clearly.

“Paul! Paul, I want water!”

There’s no way Paul missed his shouting. He’d been able to catch some of Sam’s shouting the other day.

Yesterday. 

He’s only been here a day. The lights have only turned off once. 

He hates that that’s what he’s relying on here to tell time. His internal clock has been distorted already. This isn’t good for him.

He is and is not surprised at how quickly he’s losing it. 

He was already going through it last week with the whole Jerry-Taurtis situation. Being gaslit and made to feel guilty and having to fear for his life. It’s more than he’s had to endure in any other chapter of his life.

People here have snapped over less. Over getting double-dumped on prom and being without a best friend.

Surely he can hold out for longer then? He knows what happened, he’s processing what happened, he’s moving past what happened. 

He’s fine. He’s coped. The worst is over.

Except it’s not.

Because Sam’s gotten him into another mess that’s testing his patience and his sanity. 

Sam’s just up and left him here where there’s nothing to do but panic. Panic and think.

Never a good combination.

So he sits down again next to the little mark he made. Tracing over it with his fingers.

It’d been surprisingly difficult to make. The tiles were made of a strange material that sort of tore but mainly cracked. It also had less give in some spots, like some sections of wall weren’t made out of the same thing.

It’s hard to tell. They all look like the same white tile even when he gets real close.

Well, he has nothing better to do.

He gets up and shouts a little to see if anyone responds.

Neither Paul nor Pete give any indication that they heard him.

Great.

Time to vandalize his room. The room.

He takes out his knife and positions himself in front of the wall. That way if a person comes by they won’t see what he’s doing.

When! When a person comes by!

He does not give that line of reasoning any more attention than it needs, which is none. 

Instead he presses the knife against one of the lower tiles. He rocks the tip of it back and forth. Doing his best to get it embedded into the wall and widening the hole from there.

For a moment he looks down at the damage and wonders if he can tunnel his way out. If he had the time and the patience for that sort of thing.

He discards the thought and just stabs at the wall again. And again. And again.

He’s achieving nothing here, but when he looks at what he’s done he feels something. 

Looks better that way, in his opinion. Gives the room some texture.

Maybe he could try to carve some stuff into the walls to pass the time? He’s already got his little tally to keep track of the days and he can’t say that he’s against damaging police property now that he’s gone and done this.

Why not?

He turns to his right and picks a tile. Third one up from the very bottom corner.

He’s never been much of an artist. He’d be the first to admit that. 

He likes building and sometimes he carves little details into the windowsills of his projects to give them some flare. 

But making tiny houses and carving straight into the wall is a bit of a leap in both directions, innit?

Like, he’s already got practice carving minute details, but this is also entirely different so it feels like something new to him.

So, he decides to just start.

He ends up stabbing at the wall and making little sawing motions until there’s a shape that vaguely resembles a house. 

His right arm was bothering him less. He’s surprised the motions he’s making don’t aggravate his gun wound. 

He’s hesitant to redress it. What if some toilet paper got stuck to it and when he peels it off he reopens some scabs? He doesn’t really have a medkit on him. He didn’t even get stitches!

He’d just have to deal for now. 

He tries to add a little chimney to his house. It reminds him of the miniature rustic houses he’s made back home. 

And now he’s homesick again. Fantastic.

When he’s trying to give it a door he stabs a bit too deeply and it cracks. 

Nothing is sacred.

He doesn’t want to leave it there, but there’s nothing he can do to fix it. Bits of tile are even falling off. 

He’s made a mess of it. 

What time was it? Why hasn’t anyone come talk to him? Give him something to eat?

He almost doesn’t want to eat his snacks just to see how long they’d starve him for, but he eats some Hello Pandas anyways. 

It has to be past noon. He slept late and he thinks he slept long. 

His sore neck agrees with him.

What to do then? If it’s past noon then it’s been a whole day since Sam and Taurtis left him here. What could they possibly be doing that takes so long?

What were the law enforcement people doing that took so long? Why weren’t they here?   
  


Because surely that’s why no one’s answered. They must not be here.

Maybe they let PufferfishPete out on parole and he needs to be watched over? Or maybe Pete just had his bail paid by his daughter?

If that was why then he could understand. Taurtis returned his share of money to Mrs. Okami right after they took it, Sam turned his in as evidence, and Grian probably wouldn’t be allowed to bail himself out even if the money wasn’t stolen.

He’d feel a little better about all this if that was the case. That would make sense.

Maybe he can ask a favor from one of his friends. Have one of them attempt to pay his bail and he can pay them back with the money he has.

Who would be willing?

MajorEllen broke up with him but they were still friends. She made a fair bit with her fortune telling if he remembered right, she could do it.

Or maybe he could ask YandereChan? She was in prison for a week, surely she’d want to help someone else leave this hellhole. 

Maybe both of them. He can ask Ellen to give Chan the money so that Elen isn’t involved with any of this on the surface. She’d wanted to stay out of this after all. 

It’s a solid plan. Even if it turns out he doesn’t have bail, maybe Chan and Ellen can come and visit him anyways. 

He pulls out his phone and clicks it on.

Well, he tries to.

He clicks the side and it stays black. 

He’d. This wasn’t. This didn’t make any sense!

He’d checked last night! He’d turned his phone off completely because he wanted to  _ preserve the battery. _ It had 82% how did it  _ die? _

He tapped the side button, he held the side button, he tapped the home button, he held the home button, he pressed everything at once, he pulled it back and got ready to _ chuck it at the fucking door. _

And he stopped.

And he took a shaking breath.

Exhaled.

Another inhale.

A deep exhale.

No. He’s not going to throw his phone at the door.

He is not going to make a mess of phone bits in front of the door. He’s not going to let this overwhelm him.

They think he’s crazy. Why should he vindicate them by causing a scene? How would breaking his phone help him in the slightest? It wouldn’t even make him feel better, not in the long run.

He presses his back against the wall, puts a hand to his chest, and tries to just breathe for a moment. To just forget about his plan and try to center himself.

He succeeds. 

The phone goes back into his bag.

He steps away from the wall and tries not to think about what to do from here. Because if he thinks about what he needs to do, he’ll be reminded of what he can’t do.

And it’s still too fresh to think about.

So he paces. Across the room, around the perimeter, skipping every other tile, tracing his fingers along the wall.

Just let the boredom set in, he decides. The boredom is easier than the frustration.

He won’t do any more shouting or planning or even thinking until he’s calm.

It takes longer than he’d like to admit.

But at least he’s calm. His head is cool. He can now allow himself to think about this situation.

And it’s not a good one.

By losing his phone, he’s lost so much more than just communication. 

He can’t use the clock, he can’t play any games, he can’t listen to audiobooks, he can’t check in with Sam and Taurtis, he can’t be reached by anyone.

He’s well and truly stuck now. 

He can feel the dread start sticking in his chest like cobwebs. He was already miserable, how foolish of him to think it couldn’t get any worse.

He sits down. Picks up his knife.

And he carves at the wall. Carves and carves and carves until he has to get up and move to reach more surfaces. Carves and carves and carves until his arm protests.

Carves and carves and carves and is never interrupted.

How strange.


End file.
